


What to do When You Want your Best Friend

by dragonimp



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Experienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Inexperienced Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 11:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/pseuds/dragonimp
Summary: “Crowley.  I can tell the difference between you merely watching me, and you lusting after me.  And I’m telling you you don’t have to bottle it up any longer.  Was that clear enough, dear?”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 87
Kudos: 765





	What to do When You Want your Best Friend

Crowley had been watching Aziraphale bustle around his shop, humming along with the record on the phonograph as he neatened up books that customers had had the audacity to disturb.He swept a feather duster (old; of course it was old) along the shelves as he worked, and Crowley was tempted to remark that it would be a whole lot faster to just miracle the dust away, but he was enjoying the little flick of his wrist and the way that old, worn waistcoat rode up over his belly when he reached for the high shelves.

He was staring.But that wasn’t unusual.He had a long established pattern of watching his angel, and Aziraphale never seemed to mind.The problem right now was that he was _wanting_.

The time they now had to spend together after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t was more than he had ever dared dream of.No more sneaking around, no more pretending their Arrangement was nothing more than a mutual convenience.No more secrets.

Except for the one Crowley was keeping right now, tucked away behind the dark glasses he hadn’t taken off:Crowley _wanted_.

He wanted his angel.He wanted his angel in a way that it wasn’t proper to want a heavenly being.But then, he was a demon, and what was a demon but a being of improper desires.

He had to be content with watching.He _would_ be.Angels weren’t made that way, didn’t have that taint of _desire_ that made demons what they are.He would never want to tarnish the being who mattered to him more than his own life.

But the more time they spent together, the more it was like an exquisite, self inflicted torture.

Aziraphale set down the duster and flipped the record to the second side, and Crowley watched his profile as he gently set the needle into the groove.“My dear,” he said without looking up from the phonograph,“I thought the point was that we didn’t have to keep our distance anymore.”

Crowley’s train of thought—well, his entire thinking process—derailed.“Er, uh—wut?”

The coy little smile the angel gave him as he crossed to the couch wasn’t helping.“Dear boy, if you were any louder, you’d be deafening.”

“Er—”

Aziraphale plucked the sunglasses off his face.Which he allowed because it was Aziraphale. And maybe because his brain was still trying to catch up.

“. . . Angel?”

“It’s quite honestly flattering.”He set the neatly folded sunglasses on a side table and joined him on the couch, instead of sitting in his favorite wingback chair.Which was . . . different.“But I hate to see you depriving yourself when there’s no need.”

“Hold—hold on.Hold on.I’m not—you’re not—”

Aziraphale sighed.“My dear, I know I can be . . . dense, but after sixty centuries even I can get a clue.And in the last few weeks especially you have been . . . rather obvious.I have been waiting for you to make the step that you so obviously want to make, but now I’m starting to doubt that you will.”

“I. . . .”

“I . . . know I’ve pushed you away in the past.”His eyes dropped to his folded hands.“I know I’ve said things that—that _must_ have hurt you.I _hope_ that you understand that it was out of fear of,” his gaze flicked upward, “_repercussions_, and not any reflection on you—”

“Angel, _hold up_.Can we just—”He lifted a hand, dropped it, then made a vague, uncertain gesture.“Can we make sure we’re . . . on the same page here?”He gestured again.“That you’re actually saying what I think you’re saying?”

And there was that little smile again.It made his stomach flip.“Crowley.I can tell the difference between you merely watching me, and you _lusting_ after me.And I’m telling you you don’t have to bottle it up any longer.Was that clear enough, dear?”

“. . . Right.Okay.”Crowley’s mouth was on autopilot now.“Yeah.Just making sure.”

“Oh dear.You really did think I had no idea, didn’t you.I’m so sorry that—”

“How was I to—?” he interrupted.“How could I know that you would—or _could_—or that—it’s not—look.”He pinched his eyes closed and tried to piece together a single coherent thought out of the shattered mess the angel had so merrily made of his mind.“Look.Back before—well, _Before_—there wasn’t any—I mean, _this_—”He gestured to include the room, the shop, and everything beyond.“Didn’t exist yet.There _was_ no material world to indulge in or abstain from.No physical _anything_—and certainly no physical _desires_.I didn’t start—_feeling things_ until . . . well, until _After_.”

“Oh, so you thought—you didn’t know if I . . . _felt_ things, in the same way.”

“_No_, I didn’t know!And I wasn’t gonna _ask_!You’re always so—” He flapped a hand.“So buttoned up and _proper_, I just—”

Aziraphale had his lips pressed together, clearly trying not to laugh.

“. . . Well, how was I to know?”

“No, I suppose you couldn’t have,” he said with a placating gesture that from anyone else would be condescending.“Well, let me assure you that my corporeal form is every bit as capable of _feeling things_ as any mortal body, should I choose to let it.And . . . well, you know how I like my indulgences.”

“. . . Oh.”

“Is it not the same for you?For demons?”

“Well, I—sort of,” he said faintly, still trying to wrap his head around what his angel had just implied.“We . . . I don’t think we have as much control over our corporations as you do.”Which he had thought was obvious.“I mean, we can choose whether or not to eat or breathe or sleep and such, but other things . . . there’s no off switch.How was I to know you even _had_ an on switch?I thought it was a demon thing.Not the switch.It’s not really a ‘switch.’Or it’s a stuck switch.Is it still a ‘switch’ if it’s stuck?”

At some point during Crowley’s nervous ramble Aziraphale had started to giggle.Which made Crowley lose the thread entirely.All he could do was laugh.

Whatever tension had built in the room dissipated enough that Aziraphale actually leaned back into the couch cushions.“Oh, dear.This has gotten a tad absurd, hasn’t it?”

Crowley rubbed the back of his neck.“Yeah.A bit.”

“Well.What I’m trying to say, if you’ll permit me.”Aziraphale reached over and covered his hand where it rested on the back of the couch, and Crowley quite forgot to breathe.“Is that even if I did detach myself from everything physical, from everything material, I would still desire closeness with you, still _desire_ you, because I love you.”His smile was tender.“And I have no wish to detach from anything.Especially regarding you.”

“. . . Angel. . . .”It came out strangled and faint.

Aziraphale lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

It wasn’t any more contact than they’d had in the past, hand kissing had once been a common greeting.But it had so much more . . . weight to it right now.

Then the angel turned the hand over and pressed his lips to the palm, lingering there while his eyes asked _is this okay_?

As if Crowley could ever deny him anything.As if he hadn’t wanted this with every fiber of his physical and metaphysical being for longer than he cared to remember. He just hadn’t known how to ask for it—or that he _could_.

Crowley swallowed.He spread his fingers, brushing them against the angel’s cheek.He kept expecting that any second now one of them would come to their senses and pull back, or—or a bolt would come down from above, fry him where he sat before he could get more than a taste of this exquisite piece of Heaven.But it didn’t, and they didn’t.What did happen was Aziraphale’s lips moved to the inside of his wrist, right to his pulse, and a strangled sound escaped from Crowley’s throat.

“Crowley. . . .” Aziraphale breathed against his skin, and never had his name been used as a caress.“Get over here.”

Before his mind could catch up his body had crossed the couch, and he was straddling Aziraphale with his hands braced on either side of his shoulders.“You—you sure about this, angel?” he stuttered out before his desire could completely run away with him.

Aziraphale’s hands were on his hips, tugging him down to settle against his plush thighs.“I’ve never been more sure, my dearest.”

Crowley moved to indulge in running his fingers through the pale, downy curls that had been tantalizing him for centuries.“So,” he drawled, trying for his usual casual bravado and coming up short.“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

Aziraphale’s smile made it clear he saw right through to the nerves underneath.“Occasionally.You . . .?”

He dithered, turning off to the side.Deception was part of a demon’s nature but here, in this, he wanted—he _needed_ to be honest, even if everything in him squirmed at the vulnerability.“Demons—demons will fuck sometimes, part of the whole ‘desires’ thing, but you’re likely to lose a chunk or two in the process.Never had a taste for it.”Hadn’t always had a choice in the matter, but he didn’t want to get into that now.“With humans . . . well, there’s . . . complications.”

“I see.”Aziraphale’s hands slid to his waist and started teasing at the hem of his shirt.“Well let me just say that I am honored to—”

Crowley kissed him into silence before that could turn into something embarrassing.

Demons fucked, but they never kissed.Bit and sucked in the act of fucking but out of aggression, never affection.Demons weren’t known for affection.

Crowley had kissed with humans before, but usually as part of the job.It was sometimes a good way to get in close and do some tempting.Maybe a few times, just a few, he had experienced a kiss with genuine affection behind it, but it had always been tempered by the nature of his work.

He’d never experienced wanting to _melt_ into a kiss like this.Never experienced this dual desire to consume and be consumed.He threaded the fingers of one hand through the soft curls while his other hand gripped the collar of the waistcoat, that old, worn thing the silly angel refused to get rid of or miracle new again.

Aziraphale’s hands slipped beneath his shirt and he let out a soft hiss at the sensation.The angel broke the kiss long enough to ask, “Crowley . . .?”

“Sss’fine,” he insisted.Physical touch—being touched with any kind of affection, that is—wasn’t something he was used to, but the warm hands on the skin of his back felt—felt _good_.A bit heady, but definitely good.“it’ss f—”

His lip caught and tore and he flinched, bringing a hand to his mouth with an angry hiss.

He could see the realization dawn on Aziraphale’s face.“. . . Did you just manifest fangs?”

“_Ngk_,” was about all he could manage while trying to get the damn things to recede.They hadn’t gone all the way to serpent, which was a damn good thing, but they were sharp enough.

“Oh my.How . . . kinky.”

“Kink—ssssshit, angel!”He dropped his head to his shoulder and groaned.“Jusssst lemme—get rid of thessse. . . .”

Aziraphale’s soft laughter jostled him but the hands on his back obligingly stilled, letting him focus on returning his teeth to something less dangerous.

“Told you we don’t have as much control,” he muttered.He pushed himself up. “’M probably popping out in scales, too.”

“Oh, yes.”Aziraphale lifted one hand to caress his cheek and down the side of his neck. “It’s quite lovely.”

Crowley made a face.

Aziraphale’s fingers lingered at the hollow of his throat.“Don’t fuss over the details, dearest.I want you however you are.”

“Even with fangs?”

“Well . . . I suppose it might be best to keep those away.For now.”

He grinned.“What about the tongue?”

“Oh. . . .”Aziraphale tugged the knot on the thin grey scarf loose.“You can do what you like with that.”

Crowley shivered as the scarf slid across the back of his neck.“Nnk . . .you sssure?”

The smile he gave him as he toyed with the thin strip of knit had no business being on an angel’s face and did all sorts of things to Crowley’s insides.

Crowley let his tongue go serpentine and flicked it out, teasing an ear.He was rewarded with the most delicious shiver.Aziraphale even tilted his head, baring his throat for the demon.

Quite the temptation.

He pressed his lips to the hollow behind his jaw, then played his tongue over the creamy skin.He tasted . . . Crowley shied away from the term “divine,” but everything else seemed inadequate.He wanted to drink him down.

Aziraphale shivered and giggled as the forked end tickled his ear.Crowley pulled the earlobe between his lips and worried it, and got an appreciative hum.And maybe it shouldn’t be so intoxicating but oh, he wanted to drown in it.He wanted to discover all the little sounds his angel would make.

Aziraphale’s hands hadn’t been idle.He’d gotten Crowley’s waistcoat unbuttoned and was nudging both it and his jacket off his shoulders.Crowley reluctantly pulled back to let him get rid of the garments, then lifted his arms so he could pull the black shirt over his head.

“Oh . . .” Aziraphale breathed as his hands slid down his bare sides.“Look at you.”Scales mottled his torso and arms like some sort of disease.Crowley wanted to make another sour face, but the angel was running fingers over his skin with something akin to reverence.“My beautiful serpent.”

Crowley swallowed.

“Now, my dear.”Aziraphale’s hands were warm against his ribs.“Before we continue, we should probably discuss a few things.We have options, after all.”

“Options,” he echoed.The only things on his mind were the angel’s hands and how irritating it was that he was still clothed.

“Well, first of all, there are plenty of ways two male bodies can enjoy each other.But of course we’re not limited.”

“O-oh.Right.”Crowley was busying himself with the buttons of the antique waistcoat, half afraid the threads were going to disintegrate.“Uh—not sure I can manifest as anything else right now.”He’d shifted his anatomy plenty of times over the years, but it took a fair bit of concentration.At the moment he wasn’t sure he could even miracle away this clothing without it ending up half in the floor or on the streetlamp outside.“And . . . I don’t . . . I just want you as you usually are.”Such a lovely, comfortable body; he’d inhabited that body, he knew the steel strength of the Guardian of the Eastern Gate lay underneath, but he adored that layer of softness, the gently rounded edges.He adored every bit of that corporeal form he’d quietly admired and yearned after for centuries.

“Nothing wrong with keeping things simple.”

Aziraphale pulled his bowtie loose and laid it carefully over the back of the couch, but when he started to help with the shirt buttons Crowley swatted his hands away.“My turn, angel.”

With an amused smile the angel leaned back, completely unperturbed by having a demon’s gaze rake over his skin.Crowley drank in every inch as it was exposed, until he could splay his hands across that soft little gut.Just to be able to touch like this was a banquet he never thought he would get—one he definitely didn’t deserve.

Aziraphale covered his hands with his own.“Dearest . . . I promise you, I won’t ever push you away again.I can only hope you’ll let me make up for every harsh word I ever said.Every time I doubted you.”

“’M a demon, angel.”He kept his eyes on their hands.“You’re meant to doubt me.”

Aziraphale lifted one hand to cup his chin, urging his eyes up.“No.You’re _Crowley_.You’ve been my dearest friend for six thousand years.You’ve always been there when I needed you.”He caressed his cheek.“Recent events have tested my faith in many ways, but . . . I have every reason to have faith in _you_.”

Crowley’s jaw worked, but his insides were such a turmoil of emotion that nothing coherent came out.This was everything he’d wanted to hear for so, so long—and now it terrified him.

Aziraphale shifted, sitting up.Crowley snapped out of his thoughts.Trying to mask the way his hands trembled, he got rid of the shirt and waistcoat, dropping them onto the back of the couch.

“Here now.”Aziraphale tugged on his waistband.“These trousers must be getting a bit tight, dear.Tighter than usual, that is.”

Now that his attention was called to it, they were.Uncomfortably so.

At a gentle nudge he climbed to his feet, bracing himself against those broad shoulders as Aziraphale unfastened his trousers and carefully peeled them and his pants off his hips and down his legs, prompting him to lift first one foot and then the other.Crowley chuckled at how easily his boots came off; he suspected a miracle or two might have been involved there.

“Ah, there we are.”Aziraphale slid his hands to his hips and held him there, his eyes traveling over the naked form of the demon in front of him.“Simply exquisite, darling.”

His current anatomy had long since woken up, and under this frank adoration he was rapidly coming to full mast.The thumbs caressing the blades of his hips certainly helped.

Then Aziraphale took him in hand, as if cradling a bird, and every nerve he had snapped to high alert.Crowley hissed, his fingers digging into the angel’s shoulders.

“May I?”

Crowley nodded, amazed that he even thought he needed to ask.

Aziraphale leaned forward—and Crowley had never appreciated human anatomy more.

Crowley had experimented with self pleasure from time to time, in various forms.But _that_ had never felt like _this_.Just the simple brush of lips on his cock, feeling the angel’s hot breath on his skin, made his knees want to buckle.When that blessed tongue ran the length of his shaft and started teasing the head he would have hit the floor if Aziraphale hadn’t been holding him up.It had to be blasphemous, an angel worshiping a demon like this.Completely blasphemous.

He winced as the edge of one wing crashed into a bookcase.

He froze.

“Uh.”

Aziraphale raised his head.For a moment they both stared at the great black wings he’d apparently spread for balance.Crowley felt his face heating with something other than desire.He’d expected his corporeal form to _slip_, stress tended to make him do that, but that usually meant going serpentine.This was the first time he’d ever lost control of his _wings_.

“Leave them, my dear.”With a gesture, Aziraphale moved the bookcase several feet down the wall.With a snap any vulnerable piles of books and scrolls were safely in another room.“I enjoy seeing your wings.”

Crowley had to laugh.“At the rate I’m going, they’d only pop back out again anyway.But since we’re interrupted—”He jerked a nod.“You’re overdressed, angel.”

“Ah.I suppose I am.Care to help me with that, dear?”

Such a temptation.

Crowley folded his wings and convinced his shaky legs to kneel down.He quickly rid the angel of shoes and socks, then reached up to unfasten the trousers.

A hand stroked the fold of his wing and he paused, eyes closing as he pressed into the unfamiliar sensation.He couldn’t remember the last time his wings had been touched.It certainly wasn’t something he’d even consider letting another demon do.The gentle stroking on his feathers made him shiver.

After a moment he had to remind himself that he’d had a goal here, that of getting access to more holy skin.

Aziraphale’s anatomy was wide awake and standing at attention.Crowley couldn’t resist palming him through the trousers, savoring the groan he got as the cock strained against the fabric.“Isn’t _lust_ meant to be a sin?” he teased.

“Oh we’re quite past that.”

Aziraphale lifted his hips, and Crowley finally obliged by shucking trousers and pants down his legs and dropping them onto the pile of his own clothes.

Now his angel was fully exposed, laid bare just for him.For _him_.

He caressed one pale, thick thigh.Then cupped him, feeling the weight of him in his palm and running a thumb along the velvety smooth shaft.Rock hard—for him.That soft moan, the way his eyes fluttered closed, the flushed cheeks—all for him.Crowley stroked and fondled him, wanting to burn this sight into his memory.He did so love to watch his angel.

“Ah . . . Crowley. . . .”A hand descended feather-light on his wrist, and he stilled.“Tell me . . . tell me what you want.”

“. . . What I want?”

Those soft blue eyes gazed down at him, and then Aziraphale was tugging on his arm, urging him up off the floor.“Yes.Tell me what you want.”

“What—what _I_ want.”He braced against his shoulders again, one knee on the couch.

Aziraphale stroked his thigh and smiled up at him.An angel of Heaven, ready and willing to do whatever this demon asked.

“I want. . . .”He swallowed.“I want you . . . to do what you want with _me_.”

“Crowley. . . .”

Before he could parse out all the layers of emotion in those two syllables Aziraphale had nudged him back and stood.He cupped one hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, his other arm wrapping around his waist and holding him close.

Crowley whimpered into the kiss.His naked body was flush against the angel’s, his cock trapped against that soft stomach.Just this was almost too much.“Just use me—please—” he murmured against his mouth.“However you want.Whatever you—_ungk_—”

Aziraphale’s hand had slid up his spine and was now pressing into the sensitive joint at the base of one wing.When the other hand joined in Crowley’s wings fluttered and then went limp.He sagged into the embrace.

“You will tell me if anything is ever unpleasant or unwelcome.”Despite the quiet tone it was more of a command than a request.“Not just now, but any time we’re together.Crowley?Please, I need to be sure of this.”

“Nh.Yeah.All right.”

Aziraphale sighed and kissed his temple.“All right.”

He removed one hand to snap, and when Crowley looked up the couch cushions had been moved to the floor.“Let’s give ourselves a little more room.”

Aziraphale sat down on the relocated cushions and patted his lap.Crowley eagerly took the invitation and straddled him once again, leaning in to claim that mouth that he couldn’t get enough of.

Aziraphale stroked and rubbed at the base of his wings.It felt _amazing_.Then one hand slid down his spine—fingers now miraculously slick—and into the cleft of his ass.

Crowley adjusted to make himself more available, leaning his head against his shoulder.He closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the gentle rubbing and trying not to brace for what he knew was coming.It helped that Aziraphale’s other hand was still massaging his wings and that was doing a good job of turning him boneless.He’d gladly let Aziraphale play with his wings all day, they clearly hadn’t been getting enough attention, tucked away as they usually were—

One finger slid inside.

Crowley gasped, his hands clenching on Aziraphale’s shoulders.

It . . . hadn’t hurt.

Not that he’d thought his angel would hurt him, he knew he would never—but it had always hurt.

Any time his physical form had been penetrated—in _any_ way—it had always hurt.

“Crowley?”Aziraphale had stilled, his free hand a gentle pressure between his wings.“Dearest?”

He realized he was trembling.He didn’t know how to put words to what was going on—really didn’t want to explain what dark recess of his mind had been called up.So he nodded.

Aziraphale stroked his spine, slowly coaxing the tension out of him.“Continue?”

He nodded again.

The fingers worked him gently, _so_ gently, sliding in and out and rubbing all around.It wasn’t strictly necessary, physically—he did have _some_ control over his corporation, given the right presence of mind—but it was doing a fantastic job of pulling him back to the present and away from any painful, twisted memories.He buried his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder, unable to stop the little hisses of pleasure.

Then the angel’s finger touched _something_ inside him and he cried out, wings snapping open, as fire shot up his spine.

“Ah, there we are.One of the pleasures of male anatomy.I’m delighted your corporation is complete in the details, my dear.”

“Whuh—” was all he got out before the finger prodded him again and he groaned.But then—the finger _retreated_.“_Angel_. . . .”He wasn’t too proud to beg.Not too proud at all, if it meant feeling _that_ again.

“Are you ready?Dearest?”

Oh.

He nodded.He’d already told him he could do what he wanted.

“Here. . . .”

Aziraphale unwound Crowley’s arms, but it was only so he could lie back on the cushions.Anticipation settled in Crowley’s gut and he bit his lip—and winced.

“Oh dear.”Aziraphale coaxed the flesh out from beneath the fang and stroked his thumb over the puncture, giving it a little pulse of healing energy.“I hope you haven’t gone venomous.”

“Nn.No more’n usual.”

“That’s all right, then.Here now. . . .”

With one hand Aziraphale guided his hips into position while Crowley braced against his chest.And then Crowley could feel him, just the lightest pressure against his lovingly prepared orifice.Patiently waiting.

He closed his eyes and pressed back.

This was another novel experience, actually being in control of how he was penetrated.He pressed back just enough for the head to breach him and then paused.Savoring the stretch.Savoring the knowledge that, after six thousand years, _this_ is where they finally ended up.Against everything.The two of them._Here_.

_Our side_.

Crowley sank down.

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale breathed, caressing his hips and thighs.“My dearest. . . .”

He wanted to savor this feeling, of his angel filling him, for as long as he could.

Crowley looked down and found Aziraphale watching him with hooded eyes.Waiting.With flushed cheeks and tension coiling in his hips.Crowley could feel it between his thighs, could feel the urge to move building in his tense muscles.

Crowley smirked down at him.Here he’d tried to give himself over, but trust his angel to turn it back around.

He rolled his hips.

Aziraphale let out the most delicious “Ah!” and thrust up against him.

They both shifted, and shifted again, until they found an angle that would graze _that spot_.Found a rhythm.Found the give and take that worked best—just as they always did.

Crowley’s wings had mantled around them.It cast them in shadow, but one of the few advantages of the serpent eyes was excellent low-light vision.He could see clearly the different ways pleasure flicked across his angel’s face.Each one he tucked away as a treasure.

Aziraphale lifted one hand to stroke the underside of a wing.“Feeling possessive, dearest?”

Hard to deny it.“I’m not—letting _anything_—take you from me.Not ever again.”

Aziraphale cupped his face, and held his gaze with a fierceness Crowley’s not sure he’s ever seen before—not in all their six thousand years.It said, quite clearly, _and you are mine.And I will protect you with everything I am_.

For an instant it all became too overwhelming.Crowley broke the gaze, curling in on himself as his body climaxed.His cry was more than half sob as everything seemed to white out for a moment.

He lay crumpled against Aziraphale’s chest.His heart was pounding and he’d forgotten to breathe, and he couldn’t muster up enough presence of mind to fix either of those right now.His exhaustion was more emotional than physical, but it was exhaustion none the less.

Aziraphale nudged him, until he finally shifted enough for them to disengage.The angel must have followed him to orgasm; there was something languid and content in the way Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and pressed kisses to his hair.“All right?Dearest?”

“Muh-huh.”Talking required breathing.That much was fixed.

Aziraphale kissed him again, with a little pleased hum, and started to stroke his wings.No, more than stroking; digging his fingers in and running the feathers between them, carefully smoothing the barbs.

It had been so long since his wings had been groomed by anything but his own hand that it took him a moment to recognize it.It seemed somehow even more vulnerable and intimate than what they had just been doing and—once again—Crowley wanted to melt into it.“You’re . . . you’re gonna put me to sleep with that, angel.”Right here, on top of you, was left unsaid.

He would say the soft chuckle in his ear and the gentle fingers sliding through his feathers felt heavenly, but nothing in heaven was this warm and affectionate.“Maybe I’m trying to.”And under his words: Right here.With me._Stay_.

“In that case. . . .” Crowley squirmed and stretched his legs out into a more comfortable sprawl, snuggling down into that wonderful softness and tucking his head into the crook of his neck.And, lastly, folding his wings to within easy reach.“Carry on, then.”

* * *

Crowley woke cocooned in feathers.His own wings were neatly folded against his back, and Aziraphale’s bright white ones were folded around them, wrapping the two of them in a warm, soft nest.With a sleepy smile he ran his fingers along the edge of one wing, enjoying the way the feathers seemed to fracture into color like starlight through a prism.

Aziraphale stroked his arm.“Good morning, dearest.”

Was it morning?He supposed it was.The shop windows were just starting to get light.“Morning.Hope you didn’t get too bored,” he added, counting up the hours that must have passed.They were cleaned up and dressed, he noticed—well, trousers—so the angel hadn’t been completely idle.

“Oh, no.It was nice.Very soothing, actually.”

“What, me sleeping on you?”He ran his hand over the feathers again.

“Mm-hm.”

Crowley was going to make some quip bedding or some such, but got distracted by the state of the wing under his hand.He sat up to get a better look, running his hand more deliberately over the feathers.“Angel—when was the last time you preened?”

“Well—that is—I don’t manifest them much,” Aziraphale dithered.“Or—at all, nowadays.And—and I keep _meaning_ to, but—there always seems to be something more important. . . .”

Crowley stared at him.

“I—I suppose it _has_ been a while. . . .”

“Unbelievable.”

Heaving a sigh, Crowley stood, pulling his companion to his feet.“Go make yourself some tea, angel.And then get those wings back in here.”

Crowley took a moment to admire the disarray of the back room before snapping it all back into place.He never could have imagined—had never _let_ himself imagine—that they would ever end up here.Like this.Never could have imagined. . . .

_I would still desire closeness with you, still desire you, because I love you._

He’d said it so easily.

Crowley fluffed his wings, remembering warm hands on his feathers.

Angels were beings of Love, after all.

He tucked his wings away.

When Aziraphale returned with his tea Crowley pointed him to the ottoman, then sat down on the couch behind him.

“Are they really all that bad?I know I’ve been a tad neglectful recently. . . .”

“‘Recently’?” Crowley echoed as he started in on the lesser coverts.Several loose feathers immediately drifted to the floor.“Just when _was_ the last time?“

“Well . . . that is . . . let me see. . . .”

“Never mind.”The wing twitched under his hands as he pulled a broken feather out and he hissed in sympathy.“We are _not_ letting them get this bad again.”

“Yes, dear.”

A comfortable silence fell, punctuated by rustling feathers and Aziraphale quietly sipping his tea.

Crowley focused on putting the sadly neglected wings to rights.Or tried to focus.His thoughts kept looping back.

_I would still desire closeness with you, still desire you, because I love you._

Angels were beings of Love, even if most of them didn’t act like it.Love was woven into their very essence.Demons. . . .

Demons may have started out as beings of Love but that essence had been twisted, distorted.Mangled beyond recognition.

Demons were deceitful.Manipulative.Selfish.Beings of Desire, not Love.

Or so they’d all been told.So Heaven believed.Who would believe words of love coming from a demon?

_‘Would I lie to you?’_

_‘Well obviously, you’re a demon.That’s what you do.’_

“If I . . .” Crowley started, voice barely above a whisper.“If I told you . . . if I said the words.Would you—_could_ you believe me?”

“Oh, my dearest.”Aziraphale lowered the mug.“You’ve been _telling me_ for ages.”He reached back to pat his knee.“I can only apologize for taking so long to listen.”

Crowley had to still his hands, and take a moment to blink his eyes clear.“H-here,” he finally said.His voice felt thick.“Fold your wing a bit.I need to get at the end.”

**Author's Note:**

> Argh. Okay. Been nervous about posting any of my Good Omens but decided I should finally bite the bullet. Unbetad and no BritPicker, just me and how much I love these two idiots.


End file.
